In 1978, the FBI launched Abscam, a sting in which "fake sheikhs" attempted to bribe public officials. The operation attracted controversy, including claims that it was racist and/or constituted entrapment.

People

"Some of this actually happened," admits a title card cheerfully at the beginning of the film. It begins in 1978, with conman Irving Rosenberg (Christian Bale) arranging his complicated coiffure before acting as a fixer between an obscure sheikh and Carmine Polito (Jeremy Renner), the well-loved and mostly decent mayor of Camden, New Jersey. In real life, the conman was Melvin Weinberg, and the mayor was Angelo Errichetti.

Readers of Robert W Green's biography of Weinberg, The Sting Man, might find its "hero" is less charming in real life. Director David O Russell sticks broadly to the outline of the real story, but shifts many of the characters' internal and interpersonal dynamics to focus on the practical and moral difficulties both of hustling, and of trying to out-hustle the hustlers.

Style

Rosenberg's cons are carried out in conjunction with his mistress, Sydney Prosser (Amy Adams), who masquerades as a British aristocrat. In real life, Weinberg's co-con-artist and mistress was a British woman called Evelyn Knight. He also had a wife, Marie, who was roughly analogous to Rosalyn (Jennifer Lawrence) in the film. In real life, Weinberg was in his 50s and Marie her late 40s, while Bale is 39 and Lawrence is 23; and a couple of the linking lines on the love pentagon that emerges are also invented. This film takes so much joy in sexing and glamming up the 1970s, though, that it seems a bit mean to tell it off for this sort of thing. Plus, the film-makers make Bradley Cooper wear his curlers onscreen, which means they can be forgiven almost anything.

Investigators

Rogue FBI agent Richie di Maso (Cooper) pushes Rosenberg into working for him. Di Maso occupies approximately the same place in the story as real FBI agents Tony Amoroso and John Good, though neither was as crackers as he is in the film, and there is no suggestion either secretly curled their hair either. Abscam resulted in 19 successful prosecutions. As in the film, these included one US senator and six congressmen.

Race

It is true that the FBI set up "fake sheikhs" – agents posing as wealthy Arabs – to con public officials. The price of oil rocketed in the 1970s, notably in 1973 and 1979, owing to the political situation in the Middle East. This made the oil-producing states extremely rich, though the Arab world still appeared mysterious to westerners – meaning it seemed plausible, as in the film, that some Mexican bloke in a dishdasha could pass himself off as an Emirati squillionaire. For once, the truth was even less convincing than fiction. The real FBI didn't even bother with a Mexican. They used an Irish bloke. He was agent Mike Dennehy, who may not have had strong Arab credentials but perhaps had acting in his blood: he is the brother of Golden Globe and Tony award-winner Brian Dennehy.

Happiness

The film's biggest strength – aside from its glorious wig and costume department – is the terrific performances of its five leads. Adams and Lawrence, in particular, stand out. Though the film only just scrapes past the Bechdel test (two female characters talk to each other about something that isn't a man, but it is nail varnish topcoat), both of their characters are complex, human and gripping to watch. Unfortunately, the film's happy ending is not accurate. It is true that Weinberg, like Rosenberg in the film, left his wife for his mistress – but the abandoned Marie, unlike Rosalyn, did not end her marriage by getting shacked up comfortably with a mobster. Instead, she hanged herself.